


date me to the end of night

by eowynkaa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Blushing, Bottom Sherlock, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dating, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Top John, Unexpected Date
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynkaa/pseuds/eowynkaa
Summary: Sherlock has been asked out. His date never shows up, leaving Sherlock disappointed and angry. The moment he decides to leave, some stranger joins him. His name is John and he's the most beautiful creature Sherlock has ever seen. Surprisingly, Sherlock's current and boring life takes an unexpected turn to something new.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 26
Kudos: 83





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note from me, guys.  
> English is NOT my native language. I haven't used any professional beta help here. The only help I had, came from my dearest friend (thank you so, so much, sunshine!). I'm sincerely sorry for all the mistakes that I've made! It's basically my first ever published story in that language and I'm extremely nervous. I really hope it won't kill you and... I still keep my fingers crossed that at least some of you will enjoy it!
> 
> lady_raspberry

**chapter one**

As soon as Sherlock entered the restaurant, he could somehow sense it was a mistake.

He couldn’t even think of any moment of his life in past few years, when was the last time he agreed to go out on a date. Not because of lack of interest, but mostly he avoided any reason to socialize. He decided to live all by himself for so long now, that with the passing of time he couldn’t imagine it will ever change. He enjoyed his own presence. All of those long conversations he had, so many quiet dinners and breakfasts, never spoken _goodnights_. Since he and Victor went two completely separate ways, he realized that loneliness moved in to the new flat with him and shared every single minute of his life. He accepted the fact that he will live and die alone. He was never really bothered by that.

*

It was until the latest of his cases he had solved. It had been five days of exhausting race, lack of sleep, barely eaten some leftovers from his fridge, and drinking the horrible coffee Lestrade was so generous to make at Scotland Yard. Nevertheless, he was quite astonished of a truly instantaneous action of his people (at least this one time).

Shortly afterwards, a forty-six-year-old murderer was only staring at him fiercely through the window of a police car. He smirked satisfied as his heart was still coming down from adrenaline high. He breathed some fresh air and bent his head back peeking at the golden night sky.

“Need a ride home?”

He ignored the voice of a stranger, at first. There was absolutely no reason at all for anyone to ask him that. Except for Lestrade. There had been several times when man dropped him off at Baker Street. Everyone else just simply ignored him. And God bless them.

“Sherlock, isn’t it?” He could hear a nervous chuckle.

He turned around confused and saw one of Lestrade’s men staring directly at him.

“Sorry?”

He eyed man carefully. He had never seen him in Lestrade’s team. He was way older than Sherlock. At least ten years older. He must have been close to his forties. Then he took a closer look at his face and frowned softly.

“Didn’t mean to offend you.” Came a response from man and Sherlock observed that wide smile growing on his lips. “I just wanted... to say thank you. For helping NSY. _Again_. You’re quite a genius.”

Sherlock squinted. He hadn’t got the smallest clue of what to answer. Was it some kind of a trick of Lestrade’s people? Was he attempting to make fun of him? Well, clearly in a very deplorable way, if so. His brows drew together but his body decided for him. He turned around leaving man behind, having absolutely no will to keep the conversation going.

“Wait, I’m sorry-!” He could hear man’s steps right behind him and someone touching his elbow.

Sherlock stopped suddenly, feeling quite startled. He threw man one last look and didn’t think for a second to hold himself.

“I think you may already stop your little _charade_ ,” Sherlock murmured with a short sigh, watching unbelievably true surprise at man’s face. “You and the rest of Lestrade’s _wonderful_ team can pick up all the _toys_ from the crime scene already. It’s no use of me here now.”

“But I didn’t-“

“I know what exactly you are up to,” Sherlock growled, leaning close to man’s face. “Who was it now? Was it Anderson? Is he making the bet?”

Man kept staring at Sherlock for a long while, clearly questioning his words. It was until he chuckled.

“Anderson, it is, then,” Sherlock huffed annoyed.

He didn’t wait for an answer. The last thing he wanted was to give Anderson any kind of satisfaction if he noticed his embarrassment.

“What if I don’t care and I am willing to still ask you out?”

In that very obvious moment, he knew he should say no. Why on bloody Earth, would he even agree? He had never even spoken to that man, he basically put all of Lestrade’s people to one circle, closing them in the empty room, hidden deeply in his Mind Palace.

“I know it sounds too directly... Maybe even harsh,” man spoke, stepping closer to Sherlock to stand next to him, side by side. “I just quietly admire your work. It could be nice to... hang out. Only if you don’t mind.”

Sherlock watched him, licking his bottom lip.

“It hasn’t really turned out well but...” Man looked up, meeting Sherlock’s eyes. “I could always try to make it up for you.”

It made him frown confused. Was he... _flirting_?

He saw the way man smiled at him. Oh God, he was.

He knew he should say _no_.

What made him do otherwise?!

*

Sherlock looked around. The restaurant he was invited to was too overwhelming for him. Too many people chattering around him, too bright colours hovering over, too loud noises, too intense smells, too many looks of strangers. It was all making him feel anxious enough to drink three glasses of cold water and he was still feeling sick. Sick of this place. Sick of his own foolishness.

He checked the time once again, ordered another glass of water, and peeked at the entrance door. He pressed his lips together.

He was sitting here from over twenty three minutes and no-one showed up. No text nor call.

He bloody should have known it was all a fake.

“Sir, are you ready to make an-“

“Just a moment. I’m sure it won’t take any longer,” Sherlock murmured gloomy.

Why did he agree on this? From all people, he should have known that human interactions could always let him down. During these twenty eight years of his life, he couldn’t remember a single person who would be patient enough, to learn how he worked, how he lived, and functioned. It was pointless. How very unsophisticated of him.

He exhaled softly, swallowing the bitter disappointment. He was an idiot!

He watched the waitress coming back to him again. He saw the apologetic looks of other people. God, it was humiliating.

When he finally decided to get up, suddenly a blonde-haired stranger blocked his only way out.

“Sorry, I’m so late, love. Traffic is a nightmare now,” he spoke loudly enough so other people could hear him and leaned forward, closer to Sherlock, lowering his voice. “I’m John, just go with it. Whoever didn’t bother to show up, is a dick.”

Sherlock stared at man completely baffled. He noticed the waitress had already stopped by their table. He hesitated, trying to make sense of it all. He eyed the sandy blonde man looking at him with a warm smile.

Sherlock sat down, eventually, still astonished by this man. Why would anyone rescue him from this embarrassing situation? Why would anyone decide it was worth to help him save the face?

He pressed his lips together, not being able to look anywhere but at man’s face. He was still quite confused. People around seemed to already lose interest once they realised the case was solved with a lost guest. He stared at man in front of him, blinking rapidly but then came a thought. What did he have to lose?

He decided to go with it.

Firstly, because it was absolutely _fascinating_.

But also, because John’s face was the most charming thing he had ever seen.

“Great,” John spoke cheerfully as the world seemed to illuminate in thousands of bright colours. “Let’s order some large box of chips and you’re gonna tell me something more about that dick who stood you up, shall we?”


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like before - English is not my native language, no Beta involved in this story.  
> I'm so sorry I made you wait for so long. But I'm doing my best to speed my writing up and add another chapter really soon!
> 
> Also - I've changed my nickname from "lady_raspberry" to "eowynkaa".  
> Enjoy your reading! :)
> 
> eowynkaa

**chapter two**

Sherlock hated romantic comedies. He could never understand the concept of people falling for each other in such a short period of time. Together with that came the jokes – for him not refined enough. In like manner, the conversations could never satisfy his needs of getting to know other human being. Fake smiles dawning the features. Trite words singing love anthems. The idea of a date with a complete stranger was beyond his imagination. People were too slow for him. They couldn’t follow the streams of his untamed thoughts, the sudden ideas, and remarkable theories. He worked very hard how to struggle less with the social relations in the past, but he always failed. People were so easy to read but yet so complicated to work with.

So here he was - sitting in front of a complete stranger, listening to his lame jokes and blushing like a foolish teenager every time John smiled at him. He was almost thirty, for God’s sake!

“So… Penny for your thoughts.”

His eyes sparked with surprise when he realised he was staring at John probably from quite a long amount of time. He clearly drifted away again. Ah... _Inconvenient_. He should focus. He was still at the restaurant. His glass of water was still full, but now he could see a box with untouched chips right next to it. _John!_ , he reminded himself.

“Hey, you alright? You’re quite pale.”

Oh, that wasn’t good. Not at all! He twitched when someone’s hand touched his shoulder unexpectedly. His sharp eyes shot up only to meet John’s. He looked concerned.

“I don’t know what’s going on, mate, but you’re actually scaring me now,” John spoke honestly, slowly withdrawing his hand when man flinched away from his touch.

Sherlock gulped, looking away. He had a hard time processing his current situation. John’s attentive gaze wasn’t helpful but he knew he owed this man at least a small explanation.

“Sorry,” he answered with a tight voice as his hand reached for the glass of water. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“To what?” John quirked an eyebrow at him.

He was so much losing it. What could possibly other people do? What would they say? Perhaps he should have said _no_. The only sensible way to come away completely unscathed from this situation was to leave. He could see how uncomfortable John must have been feeling. He was grateful for what man did but he couldn’t express it to him properly. He was too overwhelmed by the place, people, and the sounds.

“As much as I appreciate the way you acted before, John, you should know there is no need to keep me company now.”

The sudden fear to socialise overcame the small excitement of John’s appearance. Every single damn time. It stopped being disappointing at some point. He knew it was better this way. He should stop making all of those silly mistakes, which only made him feel even more out of place in between people. He had become alien enough now for others.

He got to his feet, grabbing his coat.

“Wait!” John’s fingers wrapped around Sherlock’s thin wrist to stop him. “Did I offend you anyhow?”

Sherlock stared at him surprised. Offend him? Why on Earth man would make such a conclusion?

“I’m sorry if did, really.” John let go of his wrist but the small stroke of his skin didn’t escape Sherlock’s attention. “I just... I wanted to help you out. That’s all. No pressure, though.”

John’s mouth curved into an honest smile. He stepped away, slipping his hands to his pockets. He must have sensed he found too close of Sherlock’s personal space. He respected the need of distance in silence.

“Look,” he started again. “We don’t have to... do this. I mean... You’re free to go, just... I thought it could be nice to listen to what kind of prick had no balls to show up on a date with someone like _you_. Besides... I think I made all people here think that I am your _actual_ date, so. You know.”

Sherlock’s eyes slightly widened and he could feel his cheeks turning pink. John was hitting on him so shamelessly that his corners of mouth quirked up. “I know _what_?”

“Well...” John smirked at him. “It’d be quite rude of you if you just left me here alone after all I’ve done for you.”

Sherlock squinted, trying to hold a smile. He licked his bottom lip. John’s eyes followed the movement unconsciously. That could be quite enjoyable.

“Quite right,” he hummed. “It would make _me_ a dick now... I think.”

John chuckled, rubbing his nape. _Nervous gesture?_ Where would that come from so suddenly?

“Fine, I have an idea,” he offered. “How about we eat these chips together, and we ask each other by one question while eating one.” He tilted an eyebrow at Sherlock.

That was clearly more tempting for him than Sherlock. He already deduced seventy percent of John’s life just by paying a close attention to his clothes and body language.

He sat down, eventually. He noticed a small smile brightening John’s face. He folded his coat, hanging it over a free chair and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers. His eyes narrowed as he stared curiously at man in front of him. He was the first to reach for the chip and bit on it.

“Taking pity on others is your daily routine, I see,” he spoke somehow tonelessly.

John’s mouth fell open from that sudden statement. He gaped at Sherlock shocked. Clearly, he counted to continue this little game full of flirtatious smiles he had started before. He thought he was already a winner.

_Oh, how wrong you were._

“You think that I did what I did out of pity?”

“Quite so.” Sherlock gave him a nod. “There is no much explanation left.”

John frowned softly. “Are there any other possibilities?”

“Two by now,” he answered calmly.

How very tedious it was, he thought. Before John was able to speak, he outraced him.

“The first one was to help me out without expecting to get something in return,” he started, studying John’s shirt. “Sitting right behind me, you could see me coming in and waiting for someone I had an appointment with. I caught a glance of you once I found by my table and I saw you finishing your meal. You enjoyed it, eating quite vigorously and smiled at the waitress who took your plates. Conclusion number one – you know this place and that means you could be a regular customer.”

John gulped with a stronger frown now. “Could be-?”

“So then,” Sherlock raised his chin. “Your sudden need of getting me out of this, in your opinion, _embarrassing_ situation, decided for you. You wanted to feel a little bit like a hero and for this purpose you approached to me when I got up and made that little show for the people in the restaurant.” He took a small breathe. “That’s what I thought when I looked at you only for two seconds. Later... I changed my mind, obviously.”

John stared at him confused after his little speech, but little did he know – it wasn’t over yet.

“ _Obviously_?” John slid down in his chair. “And...” He licked his bottom lip, clearing his throat. “What’s the second possibility?”

Sherlock’s mouth twitched in a cunning smirk. “You actually work here.”

John backed a bit in his seat as his eyes widened from shock.

“How do you-“

“Oh, that’s truly tedious, you see.” Sherlock sighed. “Simple process of deduction.”

John studied the man he met only few minutes ago. Cleary, he tried to figure out what to think of him.

“Okay,” he hesitated. “Go on, then.”

“There’s not much to say.” Sherlock shrugged. “You could observe me, sitting here all alone as you finished your shift as a waiter; it’s your new job, I could tell. You didn’t see me here before but you must have seen me coming in, just as I saw you, but I didn’t pay too much attention. But here’s the difference – you _did_. And you enjoyed what you saw.” He smirked, watching John’s cheeks turning pink now. “The woman who took my order is your friend so you decided to ask her if I may be waiting for anyone. She told you about my situation, I believe, and you stayed to make sure if the person, who was supposed to meet me here, actually won’t show up. Then you approached and... you already know the rest of the story.”

Sherlock grabbed his glass of water and drank some of it. He looked at man calmly, quite satisfied of his words. It always felt good. _Refreshing_ even, after the tonight’s events. He knew man will start asking questions but he let him sit in silence for a while. He saw John was still processing all the information. So he stole one more chip and ate it, looking around.

“Holy shit.”

And there it was.

“How... Hold on.” John frowned, leaning closer. “How can you know I work here?”

Sherlock let himself study John’s face for a while. He still envied the owners of the ordinary brains sometimes. But mostly for their ability to _rest_. His brain couldn’t slow down even for a second. Falling asleep was blissful, but he barely could let himself for that these days.

“I could smell the oil from you since you approached, “Sherlock explained. “Besides, you didn’t drink wine tonight. You’re here by your car.”

John frowned confused. “Wait... Wine?”

“You didn’t change your shirt and there’s a drop of red wine at your left sleeve.”

John peeked at his arm unconsciously and noticed that his shirt was, in fact, dirty. Man was right. He looked back at him, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

“Fine,” he licked, furrowing his brows. “Did you ask anyone who works here about me?” He frowned strongly. “How do you know I’m here by my car?”

Sherlock tilted his eyebrow. Wasn’t that obvious? Man could just look down and he wouldn’t have to explain this trivial thing.

“Your keys are sticking out of your pocket.”

John looked down. A quiet _oh!_ left his mouth.

“You can’t possibly know it’s my new job!” John pointed out at once.

That was the moment he was waiting for. Even the tips of his fingers trembled from a sudden contentment. John was about to decide if he still desired him after all the things that stayed for him to deduce out loud yet.

“I have to say it’s an unusual choice for an ex-soldier,” Sherlock admitted after while of silence.

He watched John’s expression changing. For a brief moment the fear and shock crossed his face. Sherlock knew man was probably searching for any logical way to explain himself how Sherlock just _knew_.

“You came back not more than four or five weeks ago and started a job here. So - Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John withdrew from him right away. He stared at him in shock as if Sherlock could literally read his mind. He peeked around quite unsure. A stupid thought came through his head – what if there was a hidden camera and some strange mate will jump out in a second to shout _it’s a prank!_ straight in his face?

Was he overreacting now? But how on bloody Earth...

He got his act together and raised his chin at the man opposite him.

“You can’t possibly know that,” he said back to him when he got his voice back.

“I’d advise you to be very careful with the words you’re choosing right now.” Sherlock sent him a half-smile.

John’s jaw clenched. “Fine. Afghanistan, but how... How do you know about Afghanistan?”

Oh, he truly _loved_ the questions.

“Fairly obvious I could say.” Sherlock gave him a thoughtful nod. “I know you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan just as I know that your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic.”

He reached for one chip, dipping it in a ketchup. John was staring at him with utter astonishment. He chewed the chip is silence, watching him calmly and licked his lower lip from a salty taste at the end. He knew that look. He knew exactly what was coming. Perhaps, he should already put on his coat, there was clearly a waste of time of him still sitting here.

“How?”

Sherlock glanced up to the ceiling with a deep sigh.

“I can read your military career in your face and your leg,”

“But _how_ do you know that?” John leaned closer, eyeing Sherlock’s face carefully.

It took him two a half seconds to stare at his lips bit longer, Sherlock noted.

“I didn’t know. I _saw_ ,” he corrected him at once and leaned closer too. “Tanned face, but no tan above the wrists. You’ve been abroad but not sunbathing. Your haircut and the way you hold yourself says military. I saw when you approached that your limp is really bad when you walk, but you don’t ask for a chair when you stand, like you’ve forgotten about it - so it’s at least partly psychosomatic. That says the circumstances of the original injury were traumatising - wounded in action then. So - wounded in action, a suntan.”

Sherlock reached for another chip and slipped it to his mouth, risking to peek up at John’s expression. He saw him staring back slightly gobsmacked. His mouth left a bit open. Sherlock thought about only one possibility of upcoming events – John getting angry, telling him to _piss off_ and leave him here on his own anyway.

At the moment of a sudden touch his body shivered so violently that he made the table move with a loud thud. Sherlock stared down at John’s fingers wrapped around his wrist in a shock. His eyes shot up immediately and his body tensed. He wasn’t sure of what to expect next.

He watched John lean even closer, but his eyes never left Sherlock’s lips.

“I’ve never heard anything sexier,”

Sherlock’s cheeks turned pink in an instant when John’s other hand slipped down on his thigh. He couldn’t bloody take his eyes away from John’s lips now. He watched man wetting them by his tongue and it sent shivers along his spine. He held his breathe when John gave him a strong squeeze under table.

Oh God... He did not expect _that_!

“Would you,” he cleared his throat when he heard his voice became a bit throaty. “Would you like to hear some more?”

He watched John’s lips widening in a predatory smile. He slowly grinned back.

“God, yes!”


End file.
